


You Make Me Go Crazy

by fiarra



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Come play, Established Relationship, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiarra/pseuds/fiarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's tattoos weren't supposed to become a THING for Nick. Except then they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Go Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Written because Harry probably got a butterfly tattooed on his stomach like the ridiculous human being he is. Thanks to eloiserummaging for the beta and hand-holding. All remaining mistakes are my own.

When Nick first has occasion to get Harry naked, Harry’s pale skin is still unmarked and he takes great joy in sucking deep bruises everywhere that can be hidden under clothes. Sometimes he lets himself think of Harry’s skin like his own personal canvas, his to decorate with reminders of their relationship. And then Harry starts getting tattoos when he’s away with the band.

It starts with the star and Nick still remembers the moment that he pulls Harry’s shirt off and sees it, black and dark against his arm. Harry had just grinned up at him, excited to show it off and Nick laughs in his face at how ridiculous this boy is. So, it was never really supposed to become a _thing_ , until suddenly it is. Most of Harry’s tattoos are actually really stupid, but they’re also _his_ and Nick is helpless in the face of everything Harry Styles. 

The sparrows are Nick’s favorite from the day that Harry comes home with them inked into his chest and the days that he has to wait before being allowed to touch them are pure agony. He wants nothing more than to spread Harry out across his bed and spend hours sucking lovebites into Harry’s collarbones. Nick ends up instituting a rule that Harry has to wear a shirt when they’re lounging around his flat because he’s not sure of his own willpower.

And then one morning, Nick comes home to a shirtless Harry sitting on his sofa, half-wrapped in a throw blanket. His tattoos are dark and bold against his pale skin and Nick’s brain stutters because sometimes it feels like he’s forgotten how _fit_ his boyfriend is. Harry raises an eyebrow at Nick’s uncharacteristic silence and his brain finally reboots itself.

“Giving away your things for charity again?” Nick says, making a show of stopping to hang his jacket and put his keys away properly.

Harry sticks out his tongue. “Just get over here already.”

“Pushy, pushy. This is what I get for consorting with popstars,” he grumbles, but the way he nearly throws himself at Harry belies his annoyance.

Nick feels the way all the air is pushed out of Harry’s lungs as he flails helplessly under most of Nick’s weight, but before he can open his mouth to complain, Nick attacks the collarbones that have been taunting him all week, and all that Harry can manage is a low moan.

Nick let’s himself trace the upper edge of the larger bird with his tongue, trying to feel for an edge to the inked skin. There isn’t actually anything to feel, but Nick lets himself continue anyway, reveling in the taste and texture of pure Harry. He smells faintly of Nick’s soap and something in him clenches at the thought of Harry letting himself be at home in Nick’s flat. Before he can dwell on it too much, he feels Harry shift under him, reaching around to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, urging him on. Nick slides his hand around to Harry’s side in response, stroking down towards his hip. As his hand gets under the blanket, Nick thinks he should probably be less surprised to discover that Harry has been naked this whole time. He lifts his head to look at Harry with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry mutters. Then he’s pushing Nick’s head back towards his neck and Nick doesn’t even bother replying, going back to sucking a deep, angry-looking mark into the curve of Harry’s clavicle. Harry’s breath is coming faster now as he squirms under Nick, angling and pressing himself up so that the full, hard length of him digs into Nick’s hip. By the time Nick is satisfied with his work, Harry is full-on rutting against his hip, and when Nick looks up, he sees that his eyes are squeezed shut. 

Nick smiles at him fondly and cranes his neck to kiss the corner of Harry’s mouth. He lets Harry deepen the kiss for a minute, all tongue and a slight edge of teeth that makes everything wet and dirty. He slides the hand that was absently petting at Harry’s hip up to flick gently at his nipple, making Harry gasp and pull at Nick’s hair until they aren’t kissing anymore. He frowns petulantly at Nick, but before he can say anything, Nick is moving again. This time it’s to latch onto skin above the other bird and Harry arches against with him with another moan.

“Nick, no, come on--” It takes Nick a second to realize that Harry is trying to talk and pull him away. He obeys reluctantly. 

“What?” he asks.

“Want you to fuck me now,” Harry mutters. He punctuates the statement by grabbing at Nick’s hand and sucking two of his fingers right into the warmth of his mouth. Nick inhales sharply as Harry sucks until the hollows of his cheek have gone deep and his full, pink lips several shades lighter from the pressure.

“Well, you know where my bed is, go make yourself useful,” he says, pulling his fingers out and playfully shoving Harry off the sofa.

Nick takes a minute to toe off his shoes, kicking them under the coffee table, and by the time he makes it into the bedroom, Harry is already spread out across bed, slicking his fingers with lube. As Nick undresses, he watches Harry twisting to work his fingers into himself, eyes falling half-closed in concentration and pleasure. Each push is accompanied by a twitch of his cock, hard against his stomach and already shiny at the tip with pre-come. And then finally Nick is naked and crawling up from the foot of the bed, wrapping his own fingers around Harry’s wrist, keeping his fingers tucked up inside himself. Harry lets out a shaky breath and looks down at Nick, but before he can say anything, Nick leans forward to suck the head of his cock into his mouth while simultaneously moving his hand to pet at the stretch around Harry’s fingers. He can tell when Harry lets his head fall back on the bed by they way the mattress shakes, and then he rubs his index finger through the excess lube and slides it in, tight and warm against Harry’s fingers.

Harry lets out a long, drawn-out moan and arches up, pushing his cock farther into Nick’s mouth and the bitter taste of pre-come is stronger for a moment on his tongue. Nick pulls off to lick lazily at the tip, focusing most of his attention on the way Harry feels around his finger. He’s tight, like they haven’t done this so many time before now, like they didn’t do this before Nick left for work earlier. He can feel the way that everything contracts as he slides his finger out, like Harry’s body doesn’t want him to leave, so he pushes back in, pressing firmly against Harry’s prostate, making Harry squirm again.

It goes on for a bit longer, time gone hazy and slow around the edges and then Harry pulls his fingers out and nudges at Nick’s shoulder until he’s rolled over onto his back. Another swipe of lube, and then Harry is sinking down on his cock with a sigh. The sudden clench of heat punches the air right of Nick’s chest and it takes all his effort to not let his hips push up.

There is a pause as Harry catches his breath above him, and then he drops forward, bracing his hands on either side of Nick’s shoulders. If the look on Harry’s face is anything to go on, the shift has done good things for him. After a moment, he rocks forward, letting Nick nearly slip out of him before pushing back in one smooth slide that threatens to steal Nick’s breath away. And then everything fades away until all that’s left is slick heat and gentle puffs of air on his face as Harry pants above him.

Absently, Nick notices the way that Harry’s necklace is hanging below him and swinging with each thrust. It’s not a new visual, but this time it’s framed by the tattoos and Nick is pretty sure this could be his new favorite thing. The air around them is warm, Harry’s curls starting to look a bit flattened and his cheeks pink and flushed with effort as he grinds down. Nick’s hands grip hard enough that it feels like he’s pressing fresh bruises into Harry’s hips. Each time Nick bottoms out, Harry clenches around him, eyelashes fluttering, and maybe Nick wants to stay like this forever.

And maybe Nick lets himself fixate a bit too much on the necklace and the way it brushes against him on particularly enthusiastic thrusts and the way the birds on Harry’s chest shift because the next thing he knows, Harry has stopped and is straining forward to bite at his neck with a growl.

“Stop daydreaming and fuck me,” he mutters breathlessly. He punctuates the demand with a particularly vicious squeeze, making Nick gasp.

So, finally, Nick shifts his legs for proper leverage, adjusts his hands, and lets himself go for it. By the way Harry moans, he can tell that he’s driving right into the sweet spot with each press inside. Everything is so hot and slick that Nick can feel his own orgasm rapidly approaching, but he doesn’t want to come until Harry’s come first, so he lets go of Harry’s hip with one hand to tangle his fingers in Harry’s and bring both their hands to wrap around Harry’s cock, leaking continuously since Nick had gotten inside him. A couple firm strokes and Harry gasps, bending back into a delicate arch as he comes all over Nick’s stomach and chest, eyes fluttering shut. Nick groans in response at the increase of pressure around his cock and as Harry flops down on his chest, he grinds up one, two more times and then he’s coming too. Everything goes slick and messy as he fills Harry up and Harry shudders above him, cock twitching between them.

They breathe for a few minutes and then Nick shifts to pull out, kissing the side of Harry’s face gently when he whimpers quietly. After a bit of manhandling, he gets them arranged with Harry on his back so that Nick can octopus himself around his torso, one hand coming up to idly trace around one of the birds. Harry huffs out a laugh, and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Like those, huh?”

Nick just brings his finger up to poke at Harry’s dimples. “Shut it.”

They never really bring it up after that, beyond Harry asking cheekily if Nick wants to come on his new ink when he comes home with a boat on his arm. Nick just rolls his eyes and demands that Harry go make him some tea and maybe a sandwich because “not everyone can be lazy-arse popstars, Harold. Some of us wake up early to be the voice of the nation.”

And then, it’s the week before Harry’s birthday and he shows up in Nick’s flat with a fucking butterfly tattooed on his stomach. Nick laughs for about fifteen minutes while Harry sits and sulks opposite from him on the sofa. When Nick finally stops laughing enough to start breathing properly, he slides over closer to his boyfriend and slings an arm across his bare shoulders, nuzzling into the side of his neck until Harry starts giggling and trying to push him off.

“Come on. Let’s see it up close then, love,” says Nick, grabbing Harry’s wrists and holding his arms out so that he can study the tattoo up close. It’s really quite beautiful. The details and colors and bold and perfectly symmetric, all loops and curls that make it look like it’s rising right out of his skin. Nick lets go of Harry’s hands and runs gentle fingers along the edge of a wing, only stopping when Harry tangles their fingers together and presses both their hands firmly into his abdomen.

“It’s okay, then?” he asks quietly.

Nick just brushes a kiss over his mouth and then moves them around until they’re lying down and he’s tucked up behind Harry, wedged against the back of the sofa. Nigella is doing something on the screen in front of them, but Nick isn't actually paying attention. He's too busy splaying a proprietary hand over Harry's stomach, loving the way that his hands are almost large enough to span it. For all he works out, Harry's life’s too hectic for him to be anything but lean muscle and Nick loves the way it makes them fit together. Now, he peers over Harry's shoulder at his hand, watching how he can almost cover up the butterfly with his palm and, well, if he's already starting to like it, Harry doesn't need to know. 

Later, they’re naked in bed, Harry's thighs spread wide around Nick’s hips as he fucks into him. His fingers leave more bruises on the delicate skin of Harry's legs. Harry's got his hands braced against the headboard, using it as leverage to push himself back down on Nick's cock so that he bottoms out with each thrust. Nick's being a bit of a bastard about it, keeping each thrust slow and measured, knowing that even with how deep he's pushing into him, it won't be enough for Harry to even really get close to coming. 

Harry’s definitely getting impatient, his moans taking on a desperate edge, his body going impossibly tighter around Nick’s cock as it slides teasingly past Harry’s prostate. Finally he cracks an eye open to glare up at Nick. 

"Harder," he whines, adding in a little wiggle of impatience. "Please? I wanna feel it after." Nick resolutely doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact that Harry will be gone on tour soon and “after” will mean half-awake phone calls and far too much empty space in his bed.

Nick draws in a sharp breath, readjusting his grip before pulling out so that only the tip of his cock is still inside Harry. Looking down at where they're connected, he can see the way Harry's hole is twitching around him and he can't resist taking a second to rub one of his fingers along the rim, making Harry tilt his head back on a moan. And really, it's not fair how Harry was made for this, made to be stretched and sweaty under him and around him, sinking under Nick's skin until all that's left inside him is this.

"Next time," he says. "Next time I'm gonna get my fingers up in you, nice and snug next to my cock so I can feel how tight you are." Harry doesn't even answer, just growls deep in his chest and shoves himself down onto his cock, stealing away all the rest of Nick's words.

The rhythm Nick sets is hard and deep, but Harry matches it, writhing against the sheets as Nick pounds the air out of his chest. As Nick looks down, he's mesmerized by the way the muscles move under the new tattoo. Each push forces Harry into more and more of an arch, and his effort to meet Nick halfway is pushing his abs into sharp relief. If Nick were capable of actual thought, he would stop to consider the contraction of the hard muscle against the soft edges of colorful butterfly wings, but right now he's chasing the sharp edge of release.

Harry tries to reach down for his cock and Nick speeds up slightly, batting Harry’s hand away. His whine turns into a drawn out groan and Nick purposefully shifts his hips to grind against his prostate. It makes Harry clench tighter around him, and with the edge of orgasm there, Nick quickly pulls out. Harry's eyes fly open but before he can protest, Nick is looming over him, hand moving fast on his own cock. It takes Harry a second to catch on, but when he does--

"Yeah," he pants out. "Yeah, Grimmy. Do it. Come on me, get me dirty." Harry's words trigger something in Nick and his brain whites out for a few seconds as he comes all over Harry's stomach and chest. He presses his forehead down against Harry's shoulder, Harry patting absently on the back of Nick's head. When Nick looks up, it's to the sight of Harry rubbing the come into his skin and sucking the mess off his fingers. 

"You're a menace," Nick mumbles. Harry shifts impatiently against him, an unsubtle reminder that his own cock is still hard and drooling pre-come. Nick wraps his finger around the shaft, thumbing hard under the head, and in a few short moments, Harry arches up again and adds to the mess already on his stomach.

Nick swirls his fingers through the mix of their come, using it to completely cover the tattoo. Harry bats him off with a huff. Nick just smirks and offers his dirty fingers to Harry, who sucks them right into his mouth, his clever tongue cleaning them completely. Nick's cock twitches, making a valiant effort to become interested again, and he pretends not to see the smug look on Harry’s face.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Nick shifts back. "Let me go get you something to clean up before we stick together."

Harry is docile and quiet when Nick returns with a damp flannel and wipes them both clean. He maneuvers them under the duvet, and by the time they're properly curled around each other again, Harry is half asleep. Nick’s getting there when Harry twists to look at him with a mischievous grin. 

"Do you think I could learn to move my stomach to make it look like the butterfly is fluttering its wings? I saw a video once."

Nick rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous. Go to sleep so I can pretend you never actually said that."

Harry sticks out his tongue and then curls back up, eyes slipping closed. And if, when his breath evens out with sleep, Nick lets himself pet at where he knows the butterfly is...well, no one needs to know. 

It might be a bit silly. But it's part of Harry now and that's enough for Nick.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Butterfly by Crazy Town, except I refused to use the line that actually SAYS "butterfly" because that is just silly.


End file.
